A Seer and Present Danger (Ordinary Oregon Mystery #3)

Chapter 1

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Happy Reading!

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I know what people think about Ordinary, Oregon. All that magic, all those gods putting down their powers and vacationing as if they were mortal, all those supernatural creatures living amongst normal folk?

I must be magic too, right?

Yes! Well, kind of.

Compared to my friends—Medusa, who can turn people into stone, and Jules, who is the strongest witch in town—my ability is minor at best.

I’m Piper Themati, and I can see little futures. Several little futures. Other seers can see the big stuff: storms, disasters, murder. Me? I know exactly when to refill a customer’s cup of coffee and how far to push it when driving through a yellow light.

“We’re full up and more outside,” I called back to the kitchen as I started another pot of coffee.

I didn’t have to look into the future to know we’d need coffee from now until midnight.

The Blue Owl diner was a popular spot between the valley and the coast because we had good food and great service.

“Ain’t life a beautiful adventure?” Buzz, the owner and cook, called back from the grill. Nothing ever seemed to bother him, which was part of why it was so fun to work here. He loved the Blue Owl as much as I did.

Buzz went back to singing along to the ’50s tunes and slinging food like he had six hands and a gold medal on the line.

Behind Buzz, Nat, our daytime dishwasher, tapped his toes behind, somehow keeping more dishes clean than dirty even in the middle of our Thursday noon rush.

The rest of today’s crew, Aggie and Shelly (both new hires), were serving up rib-eye, chicken, fries, and pies as quickly as Buzz could plate them. We needed one more person in the kitchen, but Buzz hadn’t put out the Help Wanted sign yet.

“Piper!” Buzz said, as I stepped up to the pass-through.

“Yes, Boss?”

“Break.”

“I can wait. We’ve got,” I waved, “a crowd.”

Shelly scooted up beside me. She was short, black-haired, and always smelled like bubble gum. “And throw off the rest of us?” She loaded her arms with plates of burgers.

“Don’t tip the domino,” Buzz agreed. “Get that break while the gettin’s hot.”

I laughed. “How do you even keep track of our breaks when you’re buried in orders?”

“It’s that big handsome brain of his.” Shelly winked and headed out.

I pressed my fingers to my mouth to keep from giggling. “Buzz, I think she likes you.”

“Who wouldn’t like my big handsome noggin?” He flipped four patties onto melted cheese and onions and covered them with a cloche. “Break, Pipes. Now.”

When he glanced up, he was smiling. But for a minute there, he looked more tired than my aching feet.

“I could cover the grill,” I said. “I used to run that place—”

“—back in Utah, yeah, you’ve said. I’ve only been here six hours. I’m just warming up.” He waggled dark eyebrows and went back to singing about who put the bomp in the bomp-bah-bomp-bah-bomp.

That was my cue to get a skedaddle on.

I grabbed my Stanley thermos and bop-shoo-bopped out the back door.

The graveled area right outside the door ended in park-like greenery, beyond which was wetland full of trees and briars. The fuse box and dumpster were to the right of me. Off to the left was the old mossy picnic table Buzz had set up years ago.

It was a nice day (a little cool, since it was mid-April) and the breeze felt fresh and clean after the heat of the diner. I tromped over and settled at the picnic table, pouring hot, sweet tea into my thermos cup.

“I declare this a happy moment. Tea,” I said in toast, “I love you.”

“Oh no, what will we tell coffee?” asked Jean Reed, who was coming around the side of the diner.

“Must be amazing tea,” said Yancy Howard, who strolled next to her.

I jumped up and gave them a hug and ushered them over to the table. “Perfect timing! I just started my break. Come sit down.”

Jean was the youngest of the Reed sisters, and like her sisters, she was a police officer in Ordinary. Her skin was pale and freckled, and her pink hair was pulled back into one long braid with a little flower tucked into the end of it.

She wore a cute flowing green dress and a short jacket and was obviously off duty today.

Yancy was in his early 50s. He had a round, kind face and tightly curled black hair that was shot through with silver. He worked as a career advisor at our satellite office of the community college based in Salem. He wore a button-down blue shirt, light jacket, and slacks.

We were all seers and had become fast friends.

“What brings you out here?” I asked. “God gossip? Is Crow up to no good? Did Odin finally punch Zeus in the face?”

Jean grinned and shook her head. “No, but I heard Than is eating lunch here at the diner every day.”

Than was Thanatos, the god of Death. He was pretty new to Ordinary, like me.

“Not sure I’d call it lunch,” I said. “But he’s ordering one thing off the menu each day. In alphabetical order.”

Jean laughed.

Yancy raised his eyebrows. “Alphabetical?”

“Yep. He’s, and I quote, ‘intrigued by the concept.’”

“Of food?” Yancy asked.

“Diner food,” I said. “Apparently someone was singing the praises of our mom-and-pop joint and now he’s curious.”

Jean raised her hand. “That was me.”

“What?” I laughed. “Why?”

“He’s been coming to the Puffin Muffin every day and finally ran out of pastries to try.”

The Puffin Muffin was Ordinary’s best bakery, and Jean’s boyfriend, Hogan, was Ordinary’s best baker.

“Well, that explains it!” I took a sip of tea. “Any tips? He’s still on A.”

“Don’t get him started on which tea to pair with which dish,” she said.

I pressed my palm to my chest. “Cross my heart. I’ll leave the fancy teas to the experts. So, if you didn’t come for gossip, what’s up? Is it a seer thing or a festival thing? Or something even more fun?”

“Seer thing,” Jean sighed, looking more serious. “I had a feeling—not my normal doom-twinge—just a foreboding that something big is headed toward us. Toward the three of us seers.”

“Big like an ice cream truck is gonna roll through our neighborhoods twice a day, or big like we win the Lottery?” I asked.

She spread her hands. “I don’t know if it’s good or bad. Just that it’s going to shake things up for us. So, I asked Yancy if he saw anything.”

I nodded. “Good thinking. Well, Mr. I-can-always-see-the-future-clearly?” I teased.

C’mon, ice cream truck, I cheered inwardly. C’mon lottery.

“There will be some kind of danger,” Yancy said.

“A shake-up like Jean mentioned. But I couldn’t tell what that danger was.

I can’t see the outcome, which is very strange for me.

I can always see the outcome, especially of my future.

But no matter how hard I focus, the future is just a static-filled blur. ”

He sounded calm, but from how hard he was clasping his hands together on the table, I knew it was stressing him out.

“Has this ever happened to you before?” I asked. “Not being able to see the future?”

“No. Never. Not once in my life.”

Okay, he was more than stressed. He was afraid.

“When did this all start?” I asked. “When did you get that feeling, Jean?”

“A week ago?” She looked at Yancy who nodded.

“Same,” he said.

I tried to think of anything that had happened a week ago, but life had been chugging along in my neck of the woods.

“Let me help,” I offered. “You know I see little futures, which isn’t much. But maybe a little future will point at the bigger issue.”

“Oh please,” Jean said. “You and the little thing. You see big futures too.”

I hummed. “No, not really.”

“You warned Hogan about the oven a couple days ago.”

“That? Come on. Warning him that a batch of cookies was going to burn isn’t exactly lifesaving information.”

“To him it was. The bakery was swamped. He was shorthanded. He would have had to close for the rest of the day.” She pointed. “Big future right there. I win!”

That made me laugh. “All right, fine. It ended up being bigger than burned cookies. How about I see what I can see?”

“Please,” Yancy said while Jean nodded.

I calmed my thoughts, relaxed my shoulders, hands, toes.

Looking forward…out and out and out…any little thing…maybe it’s an ice cream truck….

Futures flashed:

Aggie calling me back to work. A fire.

Yancy leaves, Jean stays to meet Delaney. More fire.

A man. Light hair, dark eyes (boy howdy, he was handsome!) Fire, again.

I sorted the images and possibilities. “I think there’s a fire? Flame stuff shows up more than once. Do you think it could be a fire coming our way, Jean?”

She exhaled. “Maybe. Fires are dangerous.”

“Is it at my house?” Yancy asked. “Is that why I can’t see the future? Do I die in a fire?”

Whoa. Panic-city.

“No. I didn’t see you or your house.” I reached over and took his hand. “The fire might not be the thing. But I didn’t see anyone dying, either.”

He swallowed and ran his other hand over his face. “I’m sorry. Yes. Good. I wish I could see…anything. But it’s comforting you don’t see my death.”

“Can you tell where the fire hits?” Jean asked.

“No? But it happens today, I think. Something about the futures made me think it would happen today.”

She pulled out her phone and stood. “Good enough for me. Delaney’s meeting me here for lunch. We’ll put the fire department on alert.”

Yancy stood too. “Thank you.”

“Hey, it’s my pleasure.”

“Piper,” Aggie, our newest employee, leaned out the back door. “Time’s up. You have tables waiting. That pale man is here.”

Aggie was in her forties, white, and built with strong arms and shoulders that made me think she worked out. She had a thin hook of a nose, a sharp chin, and her dark hair was pulled back in a messy bun.

She narrowed her eyes, watching Jean and Yancy walk away. “I thought only we were allowed to use the break area.”

“We are!” I said cheerily. “But it’s okay if friends stop by. Aggie, you’ve only been here a few days—”

“A week.”

“Wow. Time flies! Has anyone showed you where the fire extinguishers are?”

“No. Why?”